Never Again: Nona
by Smizzlemort
Summary: Elsa Muller is a long way from England, and the life she had previously known. Her life has irrevocably changed, but she finds the wounds no longer weep as they once had. But against the backdrop of the Vietnam War and the arrival of the prophetic Wolverine, Elsa finds her world thrown once more into disarray and in the most devastating way possible. (Sequel to Never Again:Decima)
1. Quiet Mornings

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within this story, or subsequent stories, that you, the reader, may recognize from the X-Men Universe **

Chapter 1

-Quiet Mornings-

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><p><em>We flatter those we scarcely know, we please the fleeting guest, and deal full many a thoughtless blow, to those who love us best. <em>_**-Ella Wheeler Wilcox**_

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><p><em>June, 1968 New York<em>

Gentle sunshine pierced through high-set rectangular windows, casting small and misshapen shadows onto the freshly waxed wooden floorboards and along the magnolia walls. Where the light had been obstructed and scattered into shards by the sheer chiffon curtains, tiny flecks of glittering dust danced within them in small downward spirals. A slight breeze wafted through an open window, gently tumbling through the modest apartment, carrying with it the striking scents and sounds of the Bronx.

Through the kitchen window, she observed the increasing hubbub of the streets below with slight disinterest, gently stirring the mugs of coffee she had prepared. The smell wafted above her, settling well against the rhythmic hum of the city.

As a child, she had never imagined a life in a city, let alone New York. She had never thought of living outside the moors of Banbury and breathing anything other than the crisp country air.

But that was a different time, a different place, a different world.

There was no use for that now.

Sighing, she picked up the mugs and proceeded to the bedroom, yawning into the smooth boulder of her exposed shoulder as she did. She carefully traversed through the apartment with the steaming mugs in both hands, stepping over the various articles of clothing which had been strewn about by the antics of the night before. She stepped in and carefully set the mugs down, watching him in his slumbered state with deep fondness.

Tiny blonde hairs bristled as his bare chest rose and fell in a steady pattern, his nostrils contracting and flaring with each breath. She was momentarily reminded of her own nakedness, of which was cloaked only by his shirt.

Smiling, she gently ran her fingers up and down his cheek, attempting to stir him from his sleep. With a quiet snort his bright blue eyes fluttered open, though at first a little groggy.

"Good morning." Elsa Muller greeted quietly, pulling herself up closer to him.

Alexander Summers offered her a quick glance, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. He smiled, closed his eyes again.

"Good morning." He said, his tone unmistakeably content. He rolled over and snuggled himself beside her, resting his head on her lap.

"What time is it?" Alex asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"Half-past six." said Elsa, with a slight chuckle.

Alex instantly rolled back.

"Jesus."

"And it's Monday."

Sighing, Alex gently tugged on Elsa's arm and pulled her to him, tucking her beneath his chin.

"Let's call in sick." He suggested, running his fingers up and down her arm. "How about that? We'll just lie in bed all day."

"_Just_ lie in bed?" asked Elsa coyly. She immediately felt rather sheepish; twenty-four years old and still that sort of talk didn't come naturally to her.

Elsa could feel his smile against the top her head.

"Not necessarily." He murmured.

Elsa couldn't help but grin, thinking of the numerous times they had cancelled their classes and spent the day together. Out of goodwill, their boss and dear friend, Charles Xavier had never said anything. It was an undeniable perk, but of course, Charles' good nature made them feel all the more guilty about their escapades. But when the feelings and thoughts arose, they were like giddy teenagers.

But Elsa was grateful for it, for the awe and exhilaration of young love that still existed between them. Even all that had happened, from the moment they had met, she felt perpetually blessed that life had been kind to them in these five years and had allowed them to grow alongside each other.

Sighing, Elsa glanced at the pair of dirty blue overalls Alex had hung against the door of their armoire. It hung from an inside hook, covered in splashes of paint and dark patches of oil and peppered all over with tiny holes. The ends of the arms and legs had begun to fray and despite Elsa's continuous nagging Alex had done nothing to fix them. Elsa worked as the Head of English at the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and it was a job she thoroughly enjoyed. She lived for the spark she saw in the eyes of her students, as they discussed the intricate themes of various literary, albeit human, texts and the parallels between those and mutants lives. In her humble opinion, her students were nothing short of brilliant and not a single day was a burden. She had always been content with her work and the security it provided her, but Alex had not been.

In the years since the Missile Crisis, he had been fiercely intent on securing a steady future for the two of them, and as such had taken to working in a garage in addition to his position as Head of Physical Education at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It had brought in valuable extra money and had allowed an accelerated entrance into the first-home market. But it had often meant very late nights and early mornings for him, and as a result Elsa hardly saw Alex beyond school hours.

But balmy, slightly lazy, mornings like these made it all the worthwhile.

"I suppose it's easy to forget that we're teachers." said Elsa, propping herself up. She turned round and faced him, grinning from ear to ear. "Exams start today."

Groaning, Alex flopped against the bed-head and crossed his arms over his chest. "I almost forgot."

Elsa effortlessly launched herself off the water-bed, the mattress sloshing and slopping as she did. She returned with her heavy pile of papers, fresh off the copier.

"_I _didn't." She grinned, shaking them in her hands.

"Would you look at that?" Alex laughed, taking the exams into his hands. He opened one and flicked through it, raising his brow at the sight of every several pages.

"This looks impossible." He scoffed.

"I think you underestimate our students." said Elsa.

Alex looked up. "I think everyone does."

It was true, Elsa only taught the junior and senior classes, but there was something to be said about every student at the school. Alone, confused and isolated in their home states, amongst their own they had all burst forth and flourished at exponential rates. This year, the first graduating class would leave the school and Elsa could honestly affirm that she felt genuine affection for each and every one.

Placing the exams into her satchel, Elsa reached over and pecked Alex lightly on the lips.

"We best be getting ready."

"Or we could wait another ten minutes."

A wicked grin spread across Alex's handsome face as he reached out to her, gently clasping his hand around her wrist. Elsa let out a small giggle as he pulled her towards him and enveloped her beneath the covers.

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><p>The rush of Monday mornings was bad enough as it was, even worse so when done in heels.<p>

Elsa rushed through the front gates of the school, not waiting for Alex to catch up. The 'Gifted Youngsters' sign which sat above the gate swung lightly in the summer breeze, making her irrational fear of it crashing down and impaling her all the worse.

Her strapped heels clacked incessantly against the gravel pathway, the belt of her knee-length skirt shifting uncomfortably against her waist with each step.

Through the numerous windows of the mansion, she could already see the students hustling and bustling about. No doubt they were desperately exchanging last minute information and ideas, some no doubt acquiring certain knowledge for the first time.

The younger children had taken to the outdoors, enjoying the early summer sun. They rushed and skidded around the newly installed basketball court, screaming with delight and basking in the joy of no examinations, as older students watched with obvious jealousy.

Elsa quickly slipped through the front double-doors, but almost skidded right into a high-speed Hank McCoy. In the confusion, Hank tripped over his feet and the papers he had been carrying flew out of his hands, sailing in the air in every possible direction.

The two bent down and began to collect them

"Good morning, Hank." laughed Elsa, reaching around the banisters of the stairs and pulling out wayward sheets of paper.

"Good morning, Elsa." Hank returned with equal blitheness.

He sighed, readjusting his glasses.

"I'm so sorry about that." giggled Elsa, handing the papers to Hank.

"No, that was all me." said Hank, waving his hand dismissively. "I've been flying about all morning."

He placed the papers upon a nearby stool and gave her a quick hug. His cobalt fur stuck up at different angles atop his head, his bright yellow eyes were rimmed with red and his eye-lids drooped tiredly; no doubt he had woken up at an obscene hour to prepare for the day.

It was something Elsa admired her good friend for, his selflessness and his dedication; he loved their students as much as she did. He never took any liberties or short cuts; his priority was always the welfare and betterment of his students.

And it had been good for him too.

The years spent welcoming young mutants, all possessing a diverse and incredible range of abilities, had allowed Hank to feel all the more comfortable with himself. Increasingly, he spent less time in front of a mirror and more in front of the classroom. However, it did not negate the numerous occasions Elsa had watched as he caught his reflection in a mirror or a window and stared in despair, and it was something that saddened her greatly.

"Everything ready?" Hank asked, snapping Elsa out of her daze.

Smiling, she pulled the exams out from her satchel.

"My students will not be able to feel their hands by the time they're finished."

"Well, you know what they say; the best way to educate children is to break them." A voice called from behind them.

A rather debonair Sean Cassidy emerged from the shadows, his arms crossed behind his back and an impish smile spread wide across his face. His normally wild carroty hair had been slicked back against his head, and the bushy moustache he had been working on for the last four months had been visibly brushed and trimmed. He donned a mustard tweed blazer, complete with tartan trousers and bright red bow tie fastened to the apex of his throat.

It was something that he did, during every exam period, to dress like he was 'related to Charles' and walk around the school waving a cane and barking 'I _say!_' in a stiff English accent (one which he proudly proclaimed he modelled off Elsa's own) at every passing student.

Surprisingly enough, none of the students had grown openly tired of it, in fact glad for his everlasting cheeriness.

"A _very_ wise man once said that." said Sean, tipping his head slightly.

Elsa laughed, crossing her arms. "Was he called...Sean Cassidy?"

"Why, yes!" exclaimed Sean, waving his cane triumphantly in the air.

Frowning slightly, Hank pushed forward to the main dining hall which had been cleared into an examination room.

"Well, I guess we better set up."

"Where's Alex?" Sean asked Elsa.

Before Elsa could answer, Alex appeared from behind them. He was carrying numerous sports equipment and bags, and a visible film of sweat covered his forehead.

"Alex is in a dreamlike hell, where Charles' face plasters the walls and screams at him 'wake up won't you, old boy?'" said Alex, setting the equipment down. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sighed.

There was a slight rumble and the whir of a motor which caused the group to turn around and watch as Charles Xavier rolled towards them down the hallway, fresh faced and dressed in his best suit.

Even after all this time, it was still strange for Elsa to see him so; at any time, she still expected him to magically stand up and walk about the mansion. Hank had managed to motorize the wheelchair, which provided Charles some independence. But it was clear to everyone that it wasn't the same; something would always be missing.

"I'm thoroughly flattered you dream of me, Alex." chuckled Charles, to which Alex happily nodded in acknowledgement.

Charles shifted in his wheelchair, the leather seat no doubt causing the Professor much discomfort against the summer heat. But it was clear that his discomfort extended beyond the seat of his wheelchair.

After a moment, Charles clasped his hands together.

"Well, I don't know about all of you, but I cannot wait to get started."

Smiling, he restarted his wheelchair and moved to join Hank in the dining hall. Alex swiftly followed, with Elsa and Sean trailing behind.

Sean was simply unable to contain his wicked grin, leaning down to whisper in Elsa's ear.

"Sounds like you should be worried."

Elsa couldn't help but laugh. If there were someone she loved just as much as she loved Alex, it was Charles. And she suspected Alex felt the same.

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><p>By the time the last batch of exams had concluded for the day, it was well into the afternoon. The summer sun had set upon the horizon, casting wondrous shadows and striking colours of orange through to magenta across the mansion.<p>

Due to the use of the dining hall for examinations, supper had been taken outside into the back field. Set beneath a pocket of tall magnolias, several rows of tables and mismatched chairs were filled by hungry students and teachers, their excitable chatter drifting high into the air.

Elsa was trekking back to the mansion, feeling slightly content. The day had run smoothly, and none of her students seemed overly stressed or anxious.

But it was not the students she had ever been worried about; she knew they were going to be just fine. It was Charles who had caught her attention.

She stood before the doors to his office, debating with herself as to whether to go in or not.

It was true, Charles had returned from that day on the beach irrevocably altered. And to the students and new staff who did not know better, his behaviour never seemed off or unusual.

It was blaringly obvious, however, to Elsa and to those who had been with Charles from the beginning.

Before she was able to bring herself to knock, Charles' voice drifted through.

"Come in, Elsa."

Elsa could feel the exhaustion in his voice. Sighing, she pushed through.

Elsa was mildly taken aback. Books and papers were strewn all over the normally well kept office, with a chair overturned and a seeping pot of ink lying in the middle of the floor. Elsa noticed several pencils rolling lifelessly upon his desk, snapped into jagged halves.

Charles himself was sitting in his grand leather desk seat, his back turned and only the tops of his curly copper hair visible.

"Charles?" Elsa asked, staring at his office with unease which was made even worse by his silence.

Charles had his good days and his bad days. He never said anything, but all those who knew could see how terribly he missed his adoptive sister Raven, how much he hated how life had changed for him.

Elsa pressed on. "You seemed...you seemed preoccupied this morning."

She pulled up the overturned chair and sat down in it, absently twisting her fingers in her lap.

"Oh, you know what exam period is like." replied Charles lazily. Elsa could detect a slight slur in his voice and her eyes immediately glanced over at the empty decanter of whisky on his desk.

"Yes." said Elsa slowly. "The first year we held exams. I don't know if its applicable five years later."

Charles let out an audible snort and turned round in his seat.

Elsa felt like crying herself.

Charles was uncharacteristically dishevelled. His eyes were blood-shot and puffy, his cheeks slick with dried tears. His hair had fallen messily into his brilliant blue eyes, with the knot of his tie hanging loosely around his neck. The calm and pleasant Professor from the morning was long gone.

Elsa looked down at her lap. "I would ask what's wrong, but I think I already know the answer to that."

Charles rested an arm on his desk, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. His sniffed, his bottom lip quivering.

"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't _miss_ her."

"I know." Elsa said, sighing herself. "But it's what she wanted."

"It's not what I wanted." Charles said bitterly.

Raven did not occupy Elsa's mind as much as she did Charles', but she missed her good friend all the same.

Raven had changed so much in the time Elsa had known her, had turned so quickly from a timid and insecure girl into a self-assured and resolute young woman. She wondered where she was, what she was doing, what path her life had taken since that day. It had been five years since Elsa had last seen her, in any form, and the only news she ever heard were the rumours which circulated the activities of Erik Lensher and his motley crew of mutants.

_Erik. _

Now there was a friend Elsa longed to see. She often wondered whether he still considered her a friend, whether if they were to meet tomorrow they would be able to go on as they had all that time ago. She wondered if he hated her now, for choosing love over all else. She wondered if he thought her weak like the humans he so vehemently despised.

Elsa looked up to the sound of squeaking wheels and the churn of wood against wood; Charles was attempting to shift out of his desk-chair and into his wheelchair.

Elsa immediately sprang to her feet.

"Don't!" demanded Charles, his tone unmistakeably livid. Elsa watched in discomfort as Charles achingly pulled himself out one seat into another, huffing with exertion and exasperation as he grabbed his lifeless legs and hauled them into the foot rest of his wheelchair.

"It's not all." He breathed.

His chest still heaving heavily, Charles rolled round the side of the desk and grabbed an opened envelope. He handed it to Elsa, who took it with both hands.

Elsa's heart sank.

It was a letter of sorts, from the United States military, declaring the conscription of eligible staff and students at the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters for the war in Vietnam. Accompanying it, was a flier with the time honoured image of Uncle Sam. He stared out indiscriminately, with a finger pointed forward and the term 'I want you!' sitting beneath him.

"Most of the staff will be called up." Charles bemoaned, shaking his head. "Along with the _entire_ graduating class."

Dozens upon dozens of faces flashed before her eyes. Young, vulnerable faces exchanging their pens for guns and donning the uniform of men, reeking of death, despair and pain.

But, rather selfishly, one face stood out in particular. A face she couldn't bear think about losing.

She had been hoping against hope that they would be left alone, that the government would conveniently forget about them. That the_ world _would conveniently forget.

Elsa could feel her heart quickening in beat, a small knot of pain forming at her temples. They had been so careful, so hopeful, and now it would seem that it was all about to slip through their fingers.

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><p><strong>AN: Argh! First of all, welcome to my new readers and a warm welcome back to my old ones! Thank you for taking a chance and opening up this story; I really appreciate it! I know this chapter didn't have a lot of 'action' in it, but we're only just starting. <strong>

**For my new readers, this is a sequel to my story Never Again: Decima (Originally named just 'Never Again') and whilst its not entirely necessary to have read the first one, there is a lot of information and bits and pieces that were set out in the first story that are sort of integral to understanding this one; I highly recommend you read that too. **

**So...how did you find it? Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know!**


	2. One Day

Chapter Two

-One Day-

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><p>She had lain awake all through the night, and all through the dark hours of the morning.<p>

The thickness of the air seemed to have doubled; sticky and pungent in a way she had never experienced. The strange creaks of the wooden floors and the moans of the walls seemed to echo throughout the Mansion at a deafening volume. Her senses seemed to have been uncomfortably heightened, completely aware of the tiniest smells and sounds.

She had lain with her back to him, his back to hers and a space between them that had been almost unbearable. Her gaze had been fixated on the spot of mould which had begun to grow in the top corner of their bedroom, but she had known that he had not been asleep either.

They had retired for the evening in anger, had laid in their bed each still fuming and their minds reeling with their own resentment.

Alex had been officially conscripted into the United States Military and Elsa had been adamant that she would find a way to join him in Vietnam. They had spent much of the evening screaming at the other, begging, pleading and protesting. Alex simply would not hear any of it; he couldn't fight in a foreign land knowing that his beloved was also in direct danger. Elsa insisted that she felt no different; she could not bear to live in relative safety whilst he risked his life.

No agreement had been reached, no consensus achieved, and so they had simply abated their quarrel for the time being.

Alex had already risen, but Elsa was still lying in their bed. Her pillow was still wet with the tears she had seeped throughout the evening. The cold, empty space beside her and the anger which still lingered compounded Elsa's grief.

Today, the Army would come and collect them. Come and take them away to fight as soldiers, in a war waged by politicians. Elsa couldn't bear it. Her life was irrevocably intertwined with Alex's, and she couldn't stand the fact that she, once again, had no control of it.

There was a soft tap on the door, and Elsa's heart almost skipped a beat. It took a few seconds to remind herself that she and Alex had locked up their apartment and had stayed at the school for the night.

She propped herself up, hastily wiping her cheeks clean of the residue from her tears and rubbed her eyes dry.

"Yes?"

A hand peeked through the door, pushing it open to reveal her visitor.

"Miss Muller?"

Elsa smiled.

Everett Thomas stood at the door with half of his body already in the room and half of it still in the corridor. The top of his head almost touched the door frame, his thick curly hair gently brushing against the wooden panel.

He had already changed into the clothes the military had sent along to the school; pressed, ironed and tucked neatly around his eighteen-year-old body.

He was a very tall and naturally well-built young man, but his military garb made him seem almost gargantuan.

He was holding a breakfast tray with both hands, which, from what Elsa could see, carried a glass of juice and a plate of scrambled eggs. He slightly rocked back and forth on his feet, waiting for Elsa to allow him in.

There was a particular fondness Elsa harboured for Everett and it was something she could not quite explain. Popular among the other students he was, undoubtedly, one of her star pupils. He had immense talent for written expression, was a wide and avid reader, and possessed unparalleled intuition. There was no doubt in Elsa's mind that if the United States would allow it, he could forge an incredible path and a radical impression upon American history.

Smiling, Elsa beckoned him in.

"I didn't see you at breakfast this morning." He said quietly, entering the room. It was a marvel to watch him move, to watch his long graceful limbs work in a steady and seamless stride.

"I guess I slept in." Elsa chuckled.

"Well, it's a good thing I brought you this." Everett smiled, placing the tray upon her bedside table.

"Thank you."

After a moment, Everett pointed to the sturdy leather armchair which sat in the corner of the bedroom.

"Do you mind if I sit here, Miss Muller?" He asked.

"Of course."

Elsa was more than happy for the company, more than happy to keep her mind off Alex.

As he sat down, he nervously picked at the collar of his shirt. His jaw absently ground away beneath his dark satiny skin.

It startled Elsa, to think about how much he had grown. She could remember, and with astonishing clarity, the exact day five years ago when she and Charles had travelled to Jackson Mississippi to collect him. Even at thirteen, Everett had towered over everyone in sight; both whites and blacks alike would often mistake him for an adult.

It was the Mississippi air which circulated through his lungs, but the blood that coursed through his body was laced with the earth of his birthplace of New Orleans. By the time Elsa had met him, Everett had already lost his father and the previous year, his second sibling had died shortly after birth. He had considered Charles and Elsa's proposition with the patience and the maturity of a man twice his age, and it was evident that he had had to grow up quickly; his stature had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Whilst his intimidating height had saved him from the wrath of white youths, it had also robbed him his right to youthful innocence and naivety.

He exuded easy charm and warmth but had never displayed the same youthful vigour his classmates exhibited. He had always played the role of adult, and so Elsa wondered why she was so unsettled to see him dressed like one.

Everett twisted his hands in his lap, and uncomfortable with the silence, Elsa spoke.

"You look very smart."

Even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Elsa regretted it.

Everett no doubt looked very handsome, but a man's uniform worn over a teenager's body never looked right.

Elsa hopped out of bed. She pulled on her night robe and fastened its silken belt as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

She leaned forward, clasping his hand with her own.

"You're going to be just fine, Everett, I know you will."

"I'm not afraid of war, Miss." Everett muttered, shaking his head. "I'm afraid of what I'll come back to."

Elsa furrowed her brow. "This. You'll be coming back to this."

Everett looked up, caught Elsa's eye.

"How much of that do you believe?" He said "The Professor...he won't be able to survive without all of us here. Especially, if you leave."

Elsa leaned back, quickly reminding herself that telepathy was not Everett's mutation.

Everett smiled sheepishly. "I heard you yellin' at Mr. Summers. I think everyone did."

Elsa couldn't help but laugh. She and Alex had abandoned attempts to listen to each other and instead tried to drown the other with their voices, and in hindsight, they should have realised just how thin the walls of the Mansion were.

"It's just talk at the moment." said Elsa, pulling her hair into a low bun.

"Because Mr. Summers doesn't approve?"

Elsa had thought about that, wondered just how much of herself she had already and was yet to surrender to Alex. She had always thought that she had retained her independence, both with her first love Warren, and now with Alex. But on countless occasions, she had been reminded just how much she had allowed both men to seep and control into her existence.

Silence passed between them, but Elsa was in no hurry to inquire the nature of Everett's visit. She didn't need him to provide her a reason.

Everett looked up, a certain glint in his eye Elsa had seen only a few times before.

"Don't you think it's funny, Miss?"

"What is?"

Everett leaned back in his seat. "They don't need my vote, but they need my life."

Elsa let out a small sigh; there was not a word of a lie in what he said.

Over the life of its short existence, the school had welcomed students of not only a range of abilities but of backgrounds as well. Here, they were bonded not by the colour of their skin or the class of their families, but for what they were; mutants. The school had served as a sort of bubble for the students. None of the hatred and bigotry of the outside world had permeated the school gates and it was easy to forget that the rest of the United States still sweltered with the heat of injustice.

It was easy to forget that, for students like Everett, to the outside world they were African-American before they were mutants. That the discrimination, the hatred and the suffering they endured sprung first by the colour of the skin, second by their genetic mutations.

Suddenly Everett sprang up, his arms folded over his chest as he began to pace the room.

"My daddy and my granddaddy, they fought in both the World Wars. Once to march on the Kaiser, again to march on Hitler. Both on the front line." He said, his jaw tight with anger. "They bled, Miss Muller, they bled for this country. In more ways than one."

Everett stopped, looked at Elsa as single tear rolled down his cheek. He hastily wiped it away.

"But when they-they returned, they couldn't even come home in their uniform. Still had the KKK beating down on our doors every other night, they still had the chance of getting' beaten up and strung up from a tree jus' for lookin' at white folk the wrong way!"

Elsa stared at her feet, unable to offer anything meaningful.

Elsa, though had had her life defined and reigned by racial hatred, had never quite lived through the same level of bigotry Everett had endured, or even that of her mother. For Elsa, most folk almost always attributed her dark olive skin to simply too much time spent in the sun and only a few openly questioned her background; her mother had not been afforded any such benefit of the doubt.

Elsa had only met her grandfather perhaps twice her entire life. But she had come to the conclusion that he was one of the bravest men she had ever come to know.

Edmund Balfour had not been born into a particularly well off family, but possessed a respectable and well-known surname which had granted him access to the most exclusive of social circles. He had come from a long line of sergeants and captains, and by the time he had come of age, he too entered the family business. He had never been obsessed with the ideas of prestige and blue-blood as his friends were and unlike them, he had never assumed an inherent superiority over others.

And it was because of this that, during his station in Pakistan during the First World War, he had easily fallen in love with Elsa's grandmother.

According to Elsa's mother, their love had been purest and most spectacular of its kind. But when they had eventually married, his family had not shared in the joy and had promptly disowned him.

Life-long friends had refused to speak to him and any social standing he had held had simply disappeared. No one had been able to believe that a man of his repute, and an established respected officer of the war to boot, possessed the audacity to bring back a foreign wife.

To escape the venomous stares and poisonous words, they had moved to the relative quiet of Banbury. And to quell any suspicion from their new neighbours, Edmund and Ameena had changed the name of their only daughter from Eshaal to Eva. Once Ameena had died, Edmund had simply been unable to educate his daughter on the other half of her ancestry; Edmund spoke only broken Urdu and possessed no in-depth knowledge of Pakistani life and culture.

Even by the time Eva had graduated from high school, the children still teased her, their mothers and fathers still poked and prodded and occasionally looked down their nose at her. But simultaneously, they had no idea why; there was nothing to suggest her lack of Englishness other than the darkness of her skin.

As she grew up, Eva's fevered attempts to bury the other part of her meant that Elsa knew even less. And whilst it had deprived Elsa a part of her identity, it had saved her from the same suffering her mother had endured.

Everett sniffed and Elsa was broken from her thoughts.

He had stopped pacing but it was clear just how long he had kept this bottled up. Deflated he settled back onto his seat, holding his head in his hands.

"Even if I survive the war, I won't be coming back to this." Everett bemoaned, his voice a little muffled. "I'll have to go back to Jackson."

Elsa folded her arms over her chest.

She had been quite self-obsessed as of late. She and Alex had, however semi-permanently, moved out of the Mansion a year ago and such a physical break from the school had allowed Elsa to become almost completely enveloped within the world she shared with him. She had never really considered what would happen to everyone else once the war finished, what would happen if the school no longer existed.

In the absence of Erik and Raven, Charles had struggled to maintain his tranquillity but nevertheless presented a pleasant front to his students. There was simply no telling how quickly he would fall apart come this afternoon.

Elsa sighed heavily.

"The world is a changing place, Everett." She said, her brow furrowed. She realised that there was an almost desperate tone to her voice. "Fifty years ago, the Civil Rights Act wouldn't have been fathomable-!"

"That ain't nothin' but a piece of paper, Miss." Everett interjected, shaking his head. "Words don't do nothin'. Actions speak louder than words but no one's actin'."

Elsa stared at her pupil. She knew that despite his outwardly gentle and collected exterior, a quite fire burned within his heart. She had seen it in his eyes, the same quiet spark which was quickly proving dangerous to the American establishment.

He kept in his possession several of Malcolm X's written pieces, worn and thin from their constant use. But Elsa had noted that each time he had read them, he had done so with renewed vigour. In 1965, Everett had even travelled, with Elsa's permission, to Manhattan to listen to Malcolm X speak at the Audubon Ballroom.

Everett, of course, had returned from that trip a different boy. The assassination had affected them all, but Charles had been quick in his attempts to quell any radical thought or retaliatory behaviour from both his students and his staff.

Quietly, Elsa had never agreed with Charles' policy of passive activism; it had always been a source of tension between the two.

Elsa pushed off from the bed and strode over to Everett, resting on her knees before him. She looked right into his dark eyes, seeing within them a reflection of herself.

She had been a victim of submission, still woke up in the middle of the night screaming and feverish because of it. She would be damned if she would allow that to happen to Everett.

"Then act."

* * *

><p>He pushed off the floor for what seemed to be the thirtieth time, the bundled muscles in his arms screaming with pain and exertion.<p>

He went down, pushed up again.

Down and up again.

He didn't stop until he was sure there was nothing left, until he was sure that every drop of sweat within him had been squeezed out of his body.

Alexander Summers finally dropped to the floor, his breaths leaving him in rapid gasps and his chest heaving in a similar pattern. The floor felt deathly cool against his flushed skin, though it did nothing to abate the immense heat which was circulating through his body.

He had awoken at dawn, had run straight to the gymnasium and stayed there. He had engaged in a terrible argument with Elsa the night before and by the time he woke, he was still in no mood to speak to her.

Alex had fallen in love with her because of her quiet but fiery determination, her strength and her steely resolution. But Alex only hoped that it wouldn't dismantle them completely.

He turned onto his side, slightly tucking his knees against his chest as his eyes locked onto his uniform.

He had brought it with him, carried around the Mansion ever since it had arrived. It was still sealed within its plastic slip, still folded and devoid of any trace of his touch. Some of the others had been quick to put it on, like that boy Everett Thomas.

Alex just couldn't bring himself to do it. He just couldn't.

Slowly, he got up onto his feet and edged his way towards it. He held it with both hands, watched as the sunlight from the sky-roof danced off the clear plastic. A single drop of sweat rolled off his chin and splattered onto the plastic, shooting off into different directions as it did.

Soon, his sweat would drench the fabric beneath. His blood too perhaps, or even worse, someone else's. He tightened his grip, sure that if the urge came over him he could rip it in half.

Alex's adoptive father had been a fighter-pilot and despite its prestige, it was something Alex had promised himself he would never do. He promised himself he would never join the army in any way shape or form. He had seen what the touch of war and violence had done to his father-he didn't want that for himself. And he would have gotten away with it, if Charles and Erik had left him to rot in federal prison all those years ago.

He had since become an active citizen; he fallen in love, worked two steady jobs and served as a surrogate father to about two hundred mutant children. If he put this uniform on, if he pulled it out of its packaging and slipped it over his head, it meant that there was a very real possibility that he was about to lose it all.

Slowly Alex sat down, his hands still clutching his uniform.

"I figure it's like a bandaid." A voice suddenly boomed. Alex almost fell onto his face in fright.

"You know; rip it off without thinking twice."

Sean Cassidy swaggered into the gymnasium, his newly polished boots gleaming with each step.

Alex felt oddly upset at the sight of his cheery friend; he was carrying his usual grin, but this time had paired it with the deep olive of the United States Military. As per the orders they had been sent, his hair was nearly trimmed and combed, but as form of his own little protest had kept his moustache.

"I don't wanna put it on." muttered Alex, raising himself to his full height.

"Mm." Sean murmured. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a wall. "I don't want you to either; green _so_ isn't your colour."

Alex could feel his features hardening. He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned away; he couldn't understand how Sean could make jokes at a time like this.

Sensing discomfort, Sean sought to rectify the situation.

"I'm scared too, alright? I never said I wasn't." He said, his smile having completely disappeared. "Not for a second. But I think you're looking at this the wrong way."

"Oh, yeah?" Alex snapped, feeling his ears burning with irritation. "And what's the right way?"

Sean gulped, his brow furrowed. Alex had never seen his friend so sullen, and in a way, it made him even angrier.

"Everything is going to be _fine_-"

"_That_," Alex interjected with a chuckle, waving his finger dismissively, "Is easy for you to say."

Sean stiffened, his jaw clenched and his fists slightly balled at his sides.

"I'm sorry?"

Alex wrapped a towel around the back of his neck and finally faced Sean. He knew he had no right to be angry at him, but Sean's perpetual nonchalance made Alex's blood boil.

"I have someone, alright Sean, someone other than myself to look after." Alex growled, wiping away the sweat on his forehead.

Sean squinted at Alex.

"Elsa is perfectly capable of looking out for herself." He hissed.

"When I leave today, whose life am I going to be thinking about? Huh? Mine? Or hers?" Alex barked, ignoring Sean's quip. His voice boomed and bounced off the walls of the gym, piercing his ears. It was strange having his words echoed back at him; it was as if they were trying to remind him the unjustness of his behaviour. His hands flew about, tossing the uniform onto a nearby bench.

Alex could feel his face contorting with bitterness, and he was simply unable to stop the onslaught of venomous language which was about to leave his lips.

"Who do _you_ have, Sean? Honestly?"

Immediately Alex fell back, thoroughly disgusted with himself. The silence that followed was deafening.

Sean's shoulders relaxed, his fists no longer balled. He sighed heavily as a surly smile spread across his face. He scoffed with disbelief.

"Fuck you, man." He muttered as he turned on his heel and began to leave.

Alex sniffed, grinding his teeth in frustration.

_What is _wrong_ with you? _

Without a second's hesitation, Alex ran after him. His feet nosily slapped about on the gravel pathway, sending missiles of stones into every direction in their wake.

"Sean!" He called. "Sean!"

Alex finally caught Sean's shoulder, roughly turning him around.

"I'm sorry." Alex puffed, quickly catching his breath.

With slight hesitation, Alex looked at his friend.

Sean sighed, sucking his teeth as he did.

"When are you going to learn to not take your anger out on the people who care about you?" He said quietly, punching Alex playfully on the shoulder.

"Give me another fifty years." Alex laughed bitterly, though relieved he had not permanently damaged any facet of their friendship.

"And it's not true, you know. I care-"

"I know!" Alex said immediately. He placed a hand on Sean's shoulder. "I know, Sean. I didn't-I was angry."

"It's not just that." Sean smiled, shaking his head. He paused for a moment. "I_ do_ have someone. For a while now, actually."

Alex was slightly startled. Sean no doubt had a keen interest in the opposite sex, but Alex had never known his friend to commit to a single girl for more than a week.

"Why didn't you say anything?" chuckled Alex, grabbing the tip of Sean's chin and shaking it. Sean offered nothing more than a simple smile, and raised his eyebrows.

It took a moment, but Alex finally understood. He grinned from ear to ear.

"She's not white, is she?"

Sean shook his head.

"You know that none of us would have a problem with that." Alex said quickly. "Heck, I can't even talk-"

"I know, I know." said Sean. He titled his chin, looked up towards the sky and sighed. He swung on his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. "This may be New York, but sometimes we're no better than Louisiana."

Alex unfortunately agreed; he could only imagine the sort of trouble Sean and his girl would run into if they dare to publically declare their relationship.

"One day, man." said Alex, clutching Sean's shoulder.

"One day." Sean agreed, his green eyes glittering.

They began to work their way up back inside into the Mansion, playfully pushing the other as they did. As they entered the staff wing, Sean indicated that he was heading toward the dining hall but Alex held him back.

"I wanna show you something." He said.

Alex quickly darted into the bedroom, immediately noting that Elsa was not present. But it seemed that she had not been gone for long; though the sheets had been neatly folded and tucked away, Alex could spot the patches of tears which were splattered all over her pillow case.

Without dwelling on his thoughts, his pulled out the tiny box from the abyss of the underwear and vests of his top drawer and headed back to the waiting Sean.

Without say a word, Alex handed him the box and despite his confusion, Sean opened it.

"As much as I love you, Alex," Sean laughed, staring at its contents. "There will two_ very_ upset girls who are going to need a lot of explaining if we choose to do this."

Carefully, Sean prized the ring from its casing, slipped it onto his finger and held it against the morning sunlight. It was dainty and almost weightless, encrusted with only the tiniest of diamonds and set in a twisted pattern.

Beautiful, yet very understated; Sean could imagine Elsa wearing it.

"I've had this with me for over a year now." mumbled Alex, he too staring at the ring. "I haven't found the right time to ask her, but now...she's been telling me that she's going to find some way to be with me in Vietnam, join the medical corps or something, and I don't know what to do anymore."

Alex sighed. "At least if she's in New York, I'd know that she's safe. Relatively."

Laughing, Sean placed the ring back into the box. "You think the prospect of marriage is going to stop her from doing what she wants? You'll give her all the more reason to run after you."

"I just want her safe, Sean."

"You want my advice?" Sean handed the box back to Alex and wrapped an arm around his friend's broad shoulders. "Wait until we get back. Wait until we're all back together again. Give us a reason to live."

He took his arm back and stretched out to his full height as he held his hands behind his back, his favourite position

"And besides," Sean giggled, his signature impish grin returning. "By the time we come back home I'll be even better looking than I am now, and then it'll be I, not the bride, who will be the centre of attention."

Alex laughed, in a way he had not done so for a while. He cherished his friendship with Sean, valued it as he valued the heart which beat within his chest. He couldn't stand the idea of losing him, the prospect returning to nothing more than a memory.

Without a single world, he grabbed Sean and pulled him into an embrace. But it only lasted for mere few seconds as Hank interrupted them.

The young doctor looked even more morose than he usually did, and his eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Even from this distance, Alex could see the residue of splotchy tears all over his friend's kind face.

"They're here."

* * *

><p>Elsa struggled to hold back her tears. Her throat was tight and her palms throbbed painfully. She watched as each student said their goodbyes and boarded the back of the pickup truck. A representative of the military, a Captain of sorts, stood dutifully by the back of the truck. He greeted each young man with a smile and a handshake, before crossing their name off a list and showing them onto the truck.<p>

Elsa wanted to scream at him, to beat her fists against his chest and ask him what _exactly_ it was he thought he was doing.

Hank stood nearby, occasionally sharing a word with the Captain. Hank's doctorate had saved him from conscription, but nevertheless, he wept for those who had not been so lucky.

Everett's mother and sister had arrived just in time, dressed in their Sunday best. They had sobbed together continually for a good ten minutes, his poor mother vexed at the prospect of her only son suffering the same fate as his father and grandfather.

Elsa had managed to farewell Sean, but only just. They had shared a messy goodbye, tears everywhere and since then, he had kept his distance so as not to upset them both again. But she knew her resolve would not stand for long; she was yet to say goodbye to Alex.

Elsa swayed on her feet, choking back her tears and clutching her waist with both her arms.

A shadow fell over her and she instantly looked up.

Elsa let out an audible sob.

Alex stood before her, fully clothed in his military garb. Though his golden hair had been neatly combed back, his cheeks were red and blotchy. They had not resolved their argument from the night before, and its stench still lingered between them.

He set down his bags and held Elsa in his arms.

Without hesitation Elsa latched onto him, clenching and unclenching whatever part of him she could hold onto as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

He pulled away and held her.

"Don't look at me like that." He whispered, kissing away her tears.

Elsa shook her head, running her hands all over his face. She closed her eyes, tracing her fingers over his features. She traced over the sharp points of his cheeks, and over the roundness of his chin, the smoothness of his forehead and softness of his lips. She kissed him, burning this impression into her mind.

"I need to look at you as much as I possibly can." Elsa whispered as she pulled away, arms still wrapped around his neck.

Alex kissed her again.

"Please, Elsa." Alex pleaded, his brilliant blue eyes glittering with his tears. "Stay with Charles. He'll keep you safe."

Elsa let out a single, stuttered sob.

"But who will keep _you_ safe?"

Alex smiled through his tears, planting a kiss on Elsa's forehead. He held her in his arms, held her so tightly her feet slightly lifted off from the ground.

"I love you." Alex moaned, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

"I love you." Elsa wept.

She rested her head on his chest, her fingers curled against it. They remained like this for a moment before Alex finally pulled away.

"Before I forget."

Elsa watched in confusion as Alex reached for his bag. He pulled out a long silken white ribbon from a side pocket and motioned Elsa to hold out her left hand.

Wordlessly, he looped the ribbon around her index finger and tied a neat bow.

Elsa was shaking.

She looked up at him and he gazed back. Without a second's hesitation, Elsa nodded in acknowledgement.

Neither of them needed to say it, both of them knew.

Alex kissed her one last time, wishing that he had had the ability to slow down time. With one hand clasping Elsa's and another carrying his bag, they made their way to the others.

Alex set the bag down and clasped a sobbing Hank in his arms.

"Hank." He murmured.

They pulled away, hands clutching the other's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, for all the names I've called you." said Alex, laughing through his tears.

"You're my brother, Alex." sniffed Hank, fixing his glasses. "I expected nothing less."

Still smiling, Alex moved away from Hank and bent down on one knee.

Charles was slumped in his wheel chair, his hair uncharacteristically dishevelled. He was still sobbing, refusing to look at anyone.

Tears rolling down his cheeks, Alex took Charles' hands and pulled them away from his face.

"Charles?"

Charles, though clearly distraught, smiled through his tears.

"Come back to us, won't you?" He coughed.

Alex nodded furiously.

He picked up his bag and looked to Sean, he too overcome with grief.

"Ready, roomie?" Sean managed to say. Alex laughed.

They began to make their way to the truck, the Captain crossing off their names as they climbed into it. Sean and Alex were the last to hop on, and so the Captain simply closed off the back, saluting the few remaining staff and students and hopped into the front of the truck.

Elsa was still clutching Alex's hand. And even as the truck began to pull out of the Mansion drive-way, even as it began to pick up speed, she held on as she ran behind it.

Before long, she was no longer able to hold onto his hand and after a while, could no longer keep up with the truck.

And all within a few minutes, he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Holy moly, I finally updated. I'm very, very sorry f<strong>**or the long wait; I've had lots of uni work lately and I have my exams beginning in a week. Wish me luck!**

**I apologize if this seemed a little long, almost boring I dare say, but I needed to get all of it out. Also, Everett Thomas is actually canon so feel free to look him up (But I completely changed his bio. X Men lack characters of colour so badly it's painful :( )**

**So what did you think? Please let me know! **

**Also, thank you to Sleepyreader319, ghostbreak, baritonemufasa and beachchick3 for their reviews! And to answer beachchick's question, yes I will be incorporating DOFP so keep your eyes peeled! **


	3. Ugly Thoughts

**AN: Well there's really no point is there, to apologize for my lateness. I really am sorry! I hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully I'll be able to update again soon. Thank you to baritonemufasa, Bananalollypop (and thank you for the well wishes), Lizeyli, and Alysiana (and yes he will!)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

-Ugly Thoughts-

* * *

><p>The beauty of the Xavier Mansion did not lie within its numerous high towers, topped with glittering turquoise iron lacework, or the dining hall within which resided numerous Brussels tapestries. It did not reside within the gargantuan magnolias, of which the slightly shrivelled petals of its pillowy flowers now encased the grounds in a sea of white, pink and yellow. Nor did it exist in the ornate and curiously delicate Elizabethan architecture.<p>

The beauty of Xavier Mansion lay almost entirely in its seclusion, its residence of near complete isolation. The Mansion sat at the very northeast corner of Westchester County, hundreds of miles from the throbbing heart that was New York City, away from the hubbub and to an extent away from the problems of the rest of America. It bordered Fairfield Country to the North-East, and Putnam to the North-West, but still the Mansion existed within its own bubble of existence. Neighbouring suburbs were not for miles, and access was often a confusing melee of unsealed roads and land almost completely devoid of human touch.

The seclusion had granted them all considerable protection from the wretchedness which existed not a stone's throw away, but in many ways had painfully pronounced their loneliness. It was most apparent during autumn, that strange intermission between toe-curling sunny days and bitter, blistering winter nights. The air nipped a little harsher, the winds howled a little louder, and the eerie quietness of midday was deafening.

It was both a blessing and a curse Elsa had long concluded. When she had first arrived, she had longed for the comparatively consistent demeanour of her childhood home of Banbury; it never quite exhibited the same polarity as America did. But she had come to appreciate the change, had learnt to become invigorated by the seasonal renewal.

But within these past couple of months, she had become thoroughly upset by the changing seasons.

It was now early September, and Alex had been gone for close to two months. Around this time last year, they had spent the last weekend of the holidays in New Orleans. The previous year, they had gone down to South Carolina. It was always befuddled Elsa, why Alex insisted upon the Deep South for their vacations. She hadn't minded New Orleans given the fact that the rather diverse population had made her feel rather comfortable, but she otherwise could not stand hot weather.

So why had she conceded every year? Why did she allow herself to be dragged along in his rusty Morris Minor, sun dress sticking to the back of her legs from sweat, and her skin brown and itchy from the scorching Southern sun?

Alex. It was the only reasonable explanation Elsa could procure. It was Alex's company Elsa needed and it was what made her willing to do and try things she deemed undesirable.

It was this fact that had made this moment so difficult. She had been chatting with Alex for a good fifteen minutes now, the two initially exchanging quick meaningless words, general niceties and the like. Several times she had expressed her anxieties and each time Alex had casually dismissed them, but now there was no denying that the conversation was slowly beginning to sour.

Elsa twirled the springy telephone cord between her fingers.

"We're about a day out to Saigon." Alex's voice echoed through the receiver. It was strange for Elsa, detecting the strange, exotic notes of Vietnam covertly penetrating the deep bass of his voice. It was a weirdly poignant reminder of their separation, of the physical distance between them.

"After that, it'll just be letters. I don't-"

"Not unless I'm there." Elsa quickly interjected. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his forthcoming anger, as if Alex were standing right beside her.

Elsa knew it upset him, but she simply couldn't help it. She had lost control of her life once before, and she couldn't bear the idea of it happening again. Her insistence was something that Alex simply could not or rather, would not understand as anything beyond erratic spousal concern.

There was a painful pause, with only Alex's heavy, prolonged breaths emitting from the receiver. Elsa could tell he was grinding his teeth, no doubt his eyes were closed or he was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"What if I end this, Elsa, what if I end this right now?" He finally hissed, an unnecessarily hard edge to his voice that left her feeling a little indignant. "What then? You'll come over here and it'll be for nothing."

"I realise that it's difficult for you but I do wish you didn't have to resort to such childish behaviour, Alex." Elsa scoffed.

She examined her finger-nails, disappointed that the polish she had applied to them yesterday had already begun to chip away.

"_I'm_ the child? Elsa, I'm trying to protect you!" Alex exclaimed, the volume of his voice adding an uncomfortable static to his voice. He laughed in disbelief and perhaps he was shaking his head. "I'm trying to keep you safe!"

'_We're mutants, Alex, we'll never be safe.'_ Elsa wanted to say. It was something Elsa, certainly, was constantly aware of but seemingly something that consistently slipped Alex's mind; she couldn't believe she still had to remind him of this, almost daily.

Alex sighed, going quiet for a moment.

"Elsa, I'm begging you."

He sounded uncharacteristically tired, deflated, and there was a sudden sincerity in his voice Elsa had not heard for a while. She shifted uncomfortably as he continued.

"This may be the last live conversation I have with you for a while; I don't want to spend it fighting."

Elsa wanted to point out that it was _he_ who had chosen to avoid this conversation, that it was arguably his dismissive behaviour which was souring their 'last conversation' and that _she_ was not at fault for trying to discuss the matter properly.

But she could admit that she too was a little tired.

"Alright." Elsa muttered, stretching out her legs beneath her as she leaned against the wall.

Elsa struggled to find anything meaningful to say, desperately combing her mind for something.

She paused, smiled.

"Last week I found seven years' worth of Play Boy magazines rolled up in Vin Stewart's mattress."

There was a moment of silence, perhaps a moment of disbelief, followed by a burst of laughter.

"What, _inside_ the mattress?" Alex managed to say.

"Had split the side, attached a zip and everything." Elsa said, shaking her head in disbelief in remembrance of her unusual find. She could only just contain her laughter as she recalled poor Vin's face when he realised he had been found out. "I only wish he would display such initiative during my classes."

"I don't really blame him."

"Funny." Elsa said dryly, though she couldn't help her smile.

Silence fell between them again, filled by the quiet moans of the winds from outside.

Elsa chewed on her lip, nervously tugging at the cord.

"You be careful, ok?" She said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. "You don't-you don't need to be the hero _all_ the time. Do you understand? When you're in trouble, you run. I don't care what they've taught you, you run."

"I promise." He finally said, wholeheartedly and genuine.

"Do you pinky promise?"

"Yes." Elsa could hear Alex's smile. "Yes, I do."

"You can't stop me, Alex." Elsa repeated, twisting the fingers of her free hand. "If I decide to come, there's nothing you can do about it."

"I know."

Elsa felt a little vindicated; perhaps he didn't mean it, but it was relief to hear it nonetheless.

"But I'll try not to." Elsa quickly added.

There was a sudden hubbub of noise from Alex's end, and Elsa immediately sat up. She could hear the crunch of gravel beneath truck tyres and the sputters of motors, a booming voice shouting orders.

"I have to go, Elsa-"

"Alex, you come back." Elsa almost shrieked, desperate to get everything out quickly. "You come back to me alright?"

"Who else am I going to come back to?" Alex asked, a noticeable wobble in his voice.

Elsa closed her eyes, a tear running down her cheek.

"Give my love to Sean." She sniffed.

"Sean's giving it right back!" proclaimed Sean's unmistakable voice, cleanly cutting through the background noise. Evidently he had been with Alex the whole time, and for some reason it disconcerted Elsa.

_He let Sean listen?_

Before Elsa could think on it further, Alex's voice drew her back in.

"I love you."

There was such purity to his words, such startling clarity. It was unfettered and its sincerity made her heart skip. Elsa closed her eyes, trying to imprint the sound of his voice, of these words, deep into her memory.

"I love you, too." said Elsa, hoping he too felt the same weightlessness as she had just experienced. But without a second's delay, there was a sharp _click!_ and the line went dead.

* * *

><p>"Let's see; have you got everything?"<p>

Elsa could see her hands shaking as she fixed the top button of Claudia Wickham's lime-green cardigan. She dare not look, but Elsa could see out of the corner of her eye the trickle of tears leaving indiscernible tracks all over Claudia's rosy cheeks.

"I don't wanna go back." Claudia moaned, tugging at a fiery-red curl.

"I know, sweetheart." soothed Elsa, affectionately pinching Claudia's chin. She raised herself to her full height and looked out at the last batch of motley students leaving the school, now speaking to all of them. "But we don't have any other choice."

"This is our home!" One voice from the back exclaimed. The others murmured in agreement.

Elsa wanted to express her solidarity with the students but it simply would not do.

She, Hank and the few teaching staff left had begun to send the students home a month ago when it became clear that Charles could no longer be relied upon to make any executive decisions. He had turned in on himself the moment their students had been conscripted; refusing to leave his office even to attend classes, deliberately depriving him of sleep by rolling through the halls at all hours of the night, leading to unpredictable bursts of anger the following day. His erratic behaviour frightened both staff and students and the prospect of any of the parents finding out and consequently shutting the school down for misconduct and child endangerment was simply too much. They were now faced with sending this last batch home and knowing that the length of their departure was indefinite, was frightfully eerie.

"When all of this is over," Elsa tried to cut above the hubbub. "I promise you we will all be back together again."

"What if we die?"

Elsa looked down at her side to see a tiny figure beside her.

Little Timothy Carlisle looked up at Elsa with wide, questioning eyes. He was tightly clutching at the length of her skirt, the side of his plump face resting against her leg.

Elsa reached down and ran a hand over the top of his head, raking back soft tufts of fuzzy black curls.

"We are not going to die-"

"Julian died." murmured Timothy. He bit his lip and looked to his feet, wrapping his arm around Elsa's calf.

Smart, mischievous and incredibly kind hearted, news of Julian White's death had shook the school right to its core. He was the first among the students to lose their life in the war, but he certainly would not be the last.

It was startlingly apparent that the fluid membrane which had surrounded their school had been penetrated, and the disease of the outside world was slowly seeping in.

The sharp, prolonged toot of a bus horn prevented Elsa from reassuring the children any further and it was not long before they were swept up in the dust of the incoming mini-bus. Hank had hired it from a company, seeing as the county council did not provide any public buses to the Mansion.

Hank reasoned that it was much better this way, rather than to have the children take public transportation or have their parents pick them up. They may not see each other again and it was best that they would share these final moments together.

The bus door opened with a deep hiss, automatically folding out and flattening against the inside of the stairwell.

A portly, rather muddy-looking driver sat before them. He eyed them indifferently, chewing on what seemed to be a rather large piece of gum.

Elsa patted down her skirt and tucked any wayward pieces of hair behind her ears.

"You're going to be alright, I promise." She told them as she ushered them onto the bus. Some still protested their forced departure, but nevertheless clamoured on.

Elsa sighed as she came to the last member of the group.

Meriam Steiner was neither a child nor a mutant, but a friend of Hank's from his time at . She had taught advanced level chemistry and biology, but was well loved by all staff and students and evidently the best person to accompany the students.

Meriam was sobbing, hastily dabbing away at a never-ending waterfall of tears.

Elsa gave her a quick hug. "It's alright, Meriam. Go on, now."

"Charles-" Meriam sobbed.

Elsa shook her head, squeezing Meriam's shoulder. "I'll handle it."

Though evidently unconvinced, Meriam nodded her head and boarded the bus. Elsa indicated to the driver that she was not coming aboard and without a second's hesitation, he closed the door and began to take off.

The children clamoured into the back of the bus, fighting each other for a good spot as they waved goodbye to Elsa through the back window.

Within minutes, the bus was merely a dark spot within a cloud of ochre dust and Elsa found herself alone.

There was a numbness about her that she had felt only once before.

Like that, the school was done. As quickly as it had been set up, it had fallen apart with equal speed. But more than the emptiness Elsa felt a fiery anger within her, spreading wildly throughout her body.

Hank should have been here with her, standing by her side and farewelling these children. He should have offered them more than a passing, fleeting goodbye; a stranger's send-off. It had come down to her to pacify these children, to reassure them when she wasn't sure herself and Hank's irresponsibility made her fume.

She entered the Mansion, hanging her coat on the coat stand as she thought of the numerous ways she would chastise Hank once she found him.

"ARGH!"

The cry echoed through the Mansion, bouncing off the walls and its high ceilings and spearing into Elsa's ears.

She quickly turned on her heel, ears pricked and straining for the source of the noise.

But Elsa knew; she had known from the moment she had heard it.

"Charles."

A slow jog at first, Elsa began to run to Charles' office. Her skirt flew behind her as she darted up the stairs, the thick heels of her shoes clacking against the floor boards.

She came to his office, staring at it and for a moment wondering whether she even wanted to know.

Elsa heard his cries again and it seemed as though the decision had been made for her.

Using both fists, Elsa pounded on the double-door to Charles' office. It rattled it in its hinges, the ornate golden knobs wiggling from side to side.

"Charles!" Elsa shrieked. "Charles, open the door!"

She could hear pained groaning, the shuffling of limbs against carpet and the crunch of glass beneath a heavy foot.

"Go away!" Charles' voice moaned through the door. He sounded noticeably hoarse, but there was something else to his voice that Elsa couldn't understand. There was wetness to it, a slick slimy edge that lent his words an unsettling echo.

Elsa pounded on the doors again, one hand this time and the other rattling the knobs.

"Open this door!"

"Don't!" Charles called again, almost snarling. "Don't come in!"

"Charles, you open this door right now!"

Elsa rested her forehead against the cool wood, both hands rested flat at either side of her head. Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes.

In her mind, she searched for him. Sought him out from the thousands of other voices she could hear, the lives, hopes and dreams of others she had unfettered access to.

She recoiled when she found Charles; his mind was a complete mess.

Elsa could hardly recognize it. No longer a well oiled machine, but a crackling vat littered with broken memories, unintelligible and vulgar ideas, and laced with sparkling but distant images of people no longer in his life. His thoughts were scattered, some flittering by so quickly Elsa was simply unable to pin any of them down. Others flopped about uselessly in his mind, in the way a goldfish wheezes and gasps desperately after been thrown out of its tank.

Outside noises, Elsa noticed, were muffled and distant and his vision whilst relatively discernible was blurred at best.

But it became to clear to Elsa that Charles was not alone; a second pair of hands, a pair of glasses and flashes of bright blue fur.

Elsa lifted up, staring at the door in disbelief.

"Hank?" Elsa asked slowly.

"Elsa, go away!"

Rather involuntarily, Elsa's fists had begun to ball at her sides.

'_Go _away_?'_

Anger bubbled beneath her skin, hairs standing on end and bristling against the cool air. The lean muscles encasing her jaw worked away at a steady pace, clenching and unclenching with each breath. Elsa had the mind to simply turn away, grab a few of her things and head out to the city. Wouldn't return for days or at all; leave Charles and Hank to wallow in whatever they had done, and in the shame of driving her away.

But she couldn't; she needed to know. After weeks of secrecy, of hushed conversations and late nights behind closed doors, she needed to know why she was being kept in the dark and for what.

Allowing her anger to consume her Elsa briefly metamorphosed and with an unearthly cry unsheathed her talons and smashed through the door.

Bringing herself back to her human form, Elsa almost stumbled back in dismay at what she saw.

Papers were strewn everywhere, some wedged in peculiar corners and some impaled upon the chandler above. Charles' office chair had been upturned and his desk sported a long, shattered crack down the middle as though it had been struck repeatedly. The curtains had been brought back so everything in the office was eerily illuminated by the mid-afternoon sun, bouncing off the spattering of glass nuggets from what Elsa could only assume used to be Charles' favourite paper weight.

And there sat Charles, right in the middle of the carnage. His clothes hung off his body, loose and without form and it were only now that Elsa realised just how emaciated Charles was. The lower half of him was lying helplessly against the carpet, his arms shaking violent from the exertion of supporting his upper body. His eyes were blood-shot and wildly darting back and forth as if he were a wolf caught in lights. Glistening pearls of sweat slowly squeezed out from the mess of matted copper hair atop his head, running down and illuminating his blotchy, almost feverish skin. Much to her horror, visible blotches of blood lay splattered around the professor and the closer she looked, she noticed two particularly dark patches at his knees. And though she could not be sure, Elsa thought she could detect the sour pang of urine.

Hank was crouched behind Charles, his arms hooked underneath the professor's arm-pits as if he were trying to haul him up.

"Oh, my God." Elsa muttered to herself, careful edging through the mess.

"GET OUT!" shrieked Charles, managing to hurl a small notebook at her. Elsa easily dodged it, slowly removing the distance between them.

Elsa was gawking, unable to quite understand what it was that she was looking at.

"Charles, what..."

"Elsa, please just go." Hank said, not looking Elsa in the eye.

Elsa felt like screaming.

With a sudden burst of energy, Charles went to push himself up. But he only succeeded in tumbling onto his face, pulling Hank with him.

"Charles-!" She went to grab him, but before she could do so Hank gently untangled himself from Charles and with uncanny speed grabbed Elsa by the arm.

"Hank!"

Leaving Charles heaped upon the floor, Hank dragged Elsa out of the room and into the adjacent corridor.

"Listen-" Hank began.

"Let go of me!" Elsa hissed, yanking her arm out of Hank's grip.

"I need you to understand-"

"What in god's name are you doing, Hank?" Elsa snarled, though in hushed tones. Her mind was reeling, still not able to comprehend.

Hank straightened himself up, lips twisted into a grimace.

"I'm trying to help." He said calmly, although it was clear that he was agitated.

"Help? Is that what you think you're doing?" Elsa almost broke into maniacal laughter. "I ought to call Willard right now!"

Hank furrowed his brow. He paused.

"Put Charles in an asylum?" He asked disbelievingly, leaning forward slightly.

"No, put _you_ in one!" Elsa exclaimed, shoving him once in the chest with both hands. "Look at what you're doing to him-! I don't even _know_-"

Patting his chest, Hank regained his composure.

"What I'm trying to do, is bring Charles' legs back." Hank said rather matter-of-factly. It infuriated Elsa even more, his seemingly nonchalant attitude.

"You can't bring them back!" Elsa spat, almost throwing her arms up into the air in exasperation.

"Yes, I can." said Hank, shaking his head. From the inside pocket of his blazer, he pulled out a single vial. The fluorescent green liquid within it gleamed in the partial sunlight, small bubbles popping upon the liquid surface as Hank tipped the vial up and down. "With this."

Elsa sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. It was as if nothing had changed for Hank whatsoever.

"Again?" she asked quietly, though her tone was venomous.

"No, no it's not quite the same." said Hank, flinching at the memory of his initial failed serum. "This works. It truly _works_."

"Then please explain to me what I just saw."

"The effects wear off after a while, and sometimes cause a little pain-"

Elsa scoffed, shaking her head

"_After a while_." Hank reasserted, his eyes hard and his expression set. "But I am beginning develop a serum that will prolong-"

"Stop. Please, Hank, stop."

Hank titled his head, glaring at Elsa with the same expression Alex had offered her when she first suggested that she should join him in Vietnam.

"You don't want to cure Charles?"

"I don't want to give him false hope, Hank!" Elsa screeched, though acutely aware that Charles was but a few metres away. "And I want you to stop trying to guise the personal benefits you stand to reap as simply an unforeseen bonus."

"Oh, you do not get to take the high ground over me on this." Hank scoffed, tucking the vial back into his blazer.

Elsa clenched her jaw. "Excuse me?"

"We all know you're planning to leave, run off into Vietnam and tail-gate Alex." Hank sneered. "Yes, you keep telling us that you won't. That you won't leave unnecessarily, but we both know how much of a big fat lie that is."

"I'm not_ running off_ to anywhere." Elsa said with equal derision. "Unless something happens, god-forbid it does, I am staying right here."

"Bullshit." Hank spat.

Elsa had never seen Hank like this, so snarky and dismissive. It was a clear defence mechanism, but Elsa was astounded that Hank could be so malicious.

"You were never here for Charles." He said, and it was clear that he had been sitting on these thoughts for a while. "The only reason you stayed with us on the beach that day was because _Alex_ held you back. You've been chewing on your tongue for six years because you can't bear the idea of facing Erik and admitting to him that you were wrong. So don't stand there and shake your head with disdain; you're no better than me. I think I can go as far to say that you're worse."

Elsa stood back, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

It was a rather humbling experience, to see a part of someone previously unknown despite years of friendship; to see them in a way never quite fathomable before.

To actually _know_.

"Oh, look at you Hank." Elsa said coolly, tutting. "It seems like you've finally grown a back-bone."

Without waiting for a response, Elsa pushed past him. She needed a stiff drink she decided, and a day away in the city wouldn't hurt.

But before she could walk away in satisfaction that she had had the last word, Hank's scornful voice echoed through the Mansion and almost stopped her in her tracks:

"And it's much denser than yours, I'm proud to say!"

Elsa flinched as she rushed out the front door, slamming it behind her. She knew, she knew that no level of loud noises or physical manifestations of anger could mask the fact that Hank was right.

* * *

><p><em>3 Weeks Later<em>

She tugged at the thin string of the teabag, pulling it up and wiggling it in the air, sending tiny splatters of tea onto the kitchen table. She squeezed out the excess from the tea-bag, wincing from the slight burn it inflicted upon her fingers. She watched in slight amusement as the denser half of the liquid swirled and settled in the cup.

She did this, almost, to the beat of the city. To the sound of the tooting horns, the drum of industrial machinery and the pitched chatter of men, women and children.

It was surprisingly soothing, a simple task that required nothing more from her than effortless bodily movements. She was keen to extend it, slow her movements to a snail's pace and stay there.

But she was not alone.

Taking her cup into one hand and the tall glass of juice she had poured for her guest into the other, Elsa proceeded to the living room.

Smiling, Elsa handed the glass to Greta and took a sip from her own cup.

"I just can't tell you how excited I am." Greta sighed, grinning from ear to ear. She ran a hand over her significantly swollen belly, as she looked around at the apartment lovingly.

She caught Elsa's eye, suddenly appearing rather melancholy. "This is...it's going to be a new start."

Greta Collins was black, twenty-one years old and pregnant. At least, that was what she had opened with she had met Elsa for an interview to assess her suitability as a prospective tenant for the apartment. She had graduated from high school with top marks, was Shaw educated and currently worked as a secretary for a down-town firm. Her first sexual encounter had resulted in her pregnancy, but from what Elsa could gather Greta was still on amicable terms with the child's father.

Greta was, by all means, a perfect prospective tenant and one of the few Elsa had taken a real liking to.

It was not long after her argument with Hank that Elsa had decided to rent out the apartment. After she had finally been made privy to the true extent of Charles' condition, she had decided it would be best to stay at the Mansion at all hours. She was still vehemently angry with Hank, but her concern for Charles' had won out over her ill-feelings.

His letters had slowly started to decrease in number and length, but she was sure that Alex would not have opposed.

And in any case, it didn't feel right to live here without him.

"You're going to have a home for your little boy." smiled Elsa, handing Greta her glass of apple-juice who took it gladly. She placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "That's what matters."

Smiling, Greta carefully sat down, elegantly crossing her ankles. Elsa sat opposite her, placing her cup of tea upon the coffee table.

Greta had been visiting intermittently since Elsa had selected her, always bringing various foods and drinks of which Elsa had never eaten before. She was charming, polite and generally good company.

But it was her independence Elsa admired the most, her determined nature.

Greta placed the glass onto the coffee table. She smiled nervously, as though sitting uncomfortably on an embarrassing or awkward thought.

"I've been meaning to ask..." She began. "I've never met your husband?"

"Oh, I'm not married." Elsa said hastily (she noticed rather _too_ hastily). She looked down at the ribbon tied around her finger, gently pulling at the ends.

"But I'm..." Elsa just stopped herself; _engaged_. "With someone."

"Oh!"

"He's in Vietnam."

"Oh." Greta's grin disappeared.

Greta's disappoint was clear and the more Elsa looked, the more she realised how much she _lacked_ it. It was an ugly thought, really, and it was something that she had noticed only a few days ago.

She shook her head, trying to push those thoughts out of her head.

Elsa leant back in her seat, glanced around her surroundings.

The miniature wooden grandfather clock which sat atop the television set caught her eye, and for a moment she wondered what on earth had compelled to purchase such an ugly thing. It took a moment longer to remember that it was Alex who had bought it, that it was he who had (tried) to convince her of its beauty.

She inwardly frowned.

Dusting off her peg trousers, Elsa got to her feet with Greta following suit.

"But it's going to be fine, isn't?" She said, wrapping an arm around Greta's shoulder. "It's going to be fine for me and it's going to be fine for you two."

Smiling, Greta gave Elsa a quick hug. "I should get going."

"Yes." Elsa held up the box of sweets Greta had brought her. "Thank you, for these."

She popped one into her mouth, offering one to Greta who politely declined.

"I won't be able to stop at one." She laughed.

Bidding Greta good luck, for it was unlikely Elsa would see her in person again in the near future, Elsa ushered her out the door.

She sighed heavily, running her hands through her hair. There were still plenty of things to do; a final mop of the floorboards, numerous items to pack and seal, furniture to drape. Elsa didn't feel overwhelmed, rather glad for the distraction.

Alex's absence had not left her in a crumbling mess as she had thought it would, and she tried her best not to admit she was started to feel a little lighter-

The trill of the home telephone broke Elsa from her thoughts. She rubbed her eyes, tucking her sleeves over themselves before she started for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Elsa?"

She paused for a moment, slightly taken aback. The phone often distorted the tones of the voices which passed through it, but Hank's voice was seemingly unaffected.

"Hank?" Elsa whipped the hair out of her eyes. "What is it?"

"Elsa-" Hank sounded solemn, slightly anxious and with a detectable undercurrent of intense panic.

"You've never called this line."

"Yes, I know. But I didn't know when you were coming home-"

Elsa sank down into the nearest seat, crossing her right leg over the other and her hands clutching the phone so tightly her knuckles were white with strain. She could begin to hear her heart slowly increasing in beat.

"Hank?"

Elsa heard Hank take a deep breath, his voice slightly rattling.

"It's Alex."


End file.
